


our lives are fraction of a whole

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [29]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>after the war, joseph liebgott actually went through with his plan of finding a nice Jewish girl and has a lot of little liebgotts with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our lives are fraction of a whole

**Author's Note:**

> an anon requested for an au on liebgott actually marrying that nice Jewish girl and having many liebgott babies.
> 
> my sloppy take.

He first saw her when she slid into his cab, wearing a nurse outfit underneath her sweater, looking exhausted and sleepy; her carefully tied hair were tumbling out from the elastic band, her lipstick had lost its coloring. She just finished her shift at the hospital for the night.

They didn’t talk, she only mumbled her stop, the women hostel downtown of the Bay Area and they drove in silence.

When she got out of his cab, he could still smell her perfume – something spicy – lingering inside his cab for the rest of the night.

*

The next time they met, it was at someone’s bar mitzvah, his mom had dragged him there, citing that he should mingle more with the neighbors; they all wanted to meet her war hero son.

He watched her danced on the floor, twisting her hips and letting herself being twirled; her hair perfectly coiffed, her lipstick red, and she looked pretty when she smiled and laughed.

He waited until she was alone at the table, nursing a glass of orange juice before he sat next to her.

Of course she ignored him.

“I’m Joe,” he said, looking at her aloof face, her eyes watching the others dancing.

“Dinah,” she replied, sipping her juice.

“You are a good dancer,” he said, lighting up two cigarettes and offering one for her which she took but not before glancing at him.

She inhaled the smoke elegantly, like she had been smoking all her life, like she had practice the pretty smoking poise.

“Haven’t had much time to dance these past few years,” she said, her red lips pouted prettily when she blew the smoke.

“Why?” He asked, watching her dark eyes watching him.

“The fucking war,” she said simply and with too much bitterness that he leaned closer to her, interested to know more.

“You were in the war too?”

She turned to fully look at him at that, her aloof mask slipped away, transforming her face into genuine wonderment.

“Yes, I was stationed in the Philippines, in Southeast Asia as a nurse,” she told him, her cigarette burning slowly around her fingers.

He whistled lowly, having a newfound respect for this pretty woman sitting next to him. “I was in Europe. Jumped into Normandy on D-Day,” he offered, for the first time he willingly talked about his experience as a soldier because this woman had seen the horror of the war just as much as he did.

*

They went out on dates.

And usually on odd weekdays because she had to work on weekends, always doing overtime to help out married friends who wanted to spend more time with their families.

“You don’t have a family?” He asked one day when they were walking at the pier, holding hands.

“They died when I was 15 in a factory accident,” she replied, a strand of her hair whipping around her face. “That’s why when the war happened, I signed up as a nurse because it didn’t matter if I die there because I was already alone.”

He cupped her face then, pushing the strand of her loose hair behind her ear before leaning forward to kiss her sweetly. She tasted like mint and smoke, an odd combination that he would get addicted too and she wasn’t shy when it came to kissing him back, pressing her lips firmly, her fingers gripping his jacket, pulling him closer.

*

The first time they slept together, on a rented bed in a rented room, she kissed his neck gently, brushing her lips over his scar. It fascinated her, it made her hold him tighter, wrapping her legs around him firmer, welcoming him over and over and over into her warm heat that he temporarily forgotten that he had ever felt cold in his life.

*

Sometimes they talked about their experiences during the war, on the rented bed in a rented room because she wasn’t allowed to bring guys back to the hostel.

He talked about the ugly things he had done, about the horror he had seen in Germany, how utterly lost and helpless he felt because he couldn’t protect their people.

She would always hold him, wrapping her arms around his too skinny torso, more bones than actual flesh even after he had been back home for two years now. She would murmur a lullaby in a foreign language, calming him down with her voice.

_‘Sa aking pagtulog na labis ang himbing, an bantay ko'y tala, ang tanod ko'y bituin’_

He asked her what did the words mean, she answered that it was a lullaby taught by the Filipina nun that had helped her cared for the wounded soldiers.

_‘In my deep, deep slumber, my keepers are the stars, the stars are my guardians’_

The words soothed him, like a cool balm on a burning scar.

Sometimes, when she was too wounded from fatigue and the pack of cigarettes couldn’t help calm her nerves, he would stay up with her, looking out of the window, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She would murmur about the girl that she had fell in love with during the war, about her blue eyes and her soft smile, about how she thought she didn’t want to live anymore when the girl died from stray bullets being shot at them.

He listened to it all, his heart aching on her behalf; drawing her closer to his warmth, kissing her hair, letting the tears fell down on her face.

When she looked at their reflection in the window, she would ask him, if he had someone that he loved during the war, someone who he cared despite the blood and gore and the ugliness of everything.

He thought about his own blue eyed person, his loved for the ocean, the brilliant mind and the mouth that always talked about the most stupid trivial things. He thought about the kisses behind the shed, the wandering hands where nobody could see.

“Yeah, I did”, he answered and she smiled at him sadly, her eyes wet and red and she held his arms tighter.

*

They got married one year after they met.

His Ma was happy.

“Finally!” She had hollered, kissing his cheeks and Dinah’s face. Welcoming her into the Liebgott’s family with all the pomp and circumstance of the Jewish traditions.

His Ma insisted on them even though he had wanted only a civil ceremony. Dinah reasoned that they should make his Ma happy, so he sighed, looked annoyed and groaned out his willingness.

She kissed him sweetly, telling him that he’s a good son to his Ma, and his Ma was elated; going all out with the little money she had saved for this occasion. Her son, the war hero, married to a nice Jewish girl who had understood him far more than she could.

*

They lived in a tidy apartment overlooking the sea.

In this space, where they shared their happiness and pain, where they sometimes quarreled so bitterly about the things from the past, where they worshiped each others bodies in the most delicious ways possible, where they whispered of their future together on their shared bed, they lived and grew as husband and wife, as partners.

They learned to adapt to each other’s quirks and tempers, knew each other’s body languages very well, they unspoken pleas, the unspoken apology.

They were there for each other, through sleepless night due to the dreams that kept them awake, through the shaking hands that sometimes forgotten that they could do so much more than pulling the trigger of a machine gun, through tired eyes that have seen too much death.

*

When she got pregnant, he suggested that they moved to the suburbs, a place more suitable to raise a child. He had whispered to her breasts, that he had been keeping money, saving some of his income to be able to buy a comfortable house for them.

She brushed his hair away from his forehead, kissing his eyelids, tracing the laugh lines around his mouth, thanking him with her mouth over him, swallowing his moans.

*

They moved into the modest 4 bedrooms house with the new paint still drying on the wall, the lawn wide enough for him to build something for the children to play.

Here in this new place, they slowly learned to let go of the past.

Here in this new place, with their firstborn daughter, he had somehow became a new man; more compassionate, more mellowed, more loving.

When their son was born, he no longer had dreams from the war. It was like their children had erased every ugly and painful things he had ever seen in his life.

*

When they grew old, when their bones creaked with every steps they took, he would still hold her hand in his.

Looking into the face that he loved so dearly, looking at the woman that had given him everything he thought he would never had.

She would take his hands, and swayed their bodies together to the music that only they could hear.

**Author's Note:**

> first posted on [webgottrash](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/142881141127/can-you-make-an-au-on-liebgott-actually-marrying)


End file.
